


Pray You Catch Me

by frailedfake



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Infidelity, M/M, One Shot, Sad Ending, ages not consistent with irl btw, fundy is very sad and passive, i can’t think of tags, no beta we die like every l’manburgian, sorry - Freeform, took stuff from the wedding vid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28381416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frailedfake/pseuds/frailedfake
Summary: Fundy knows that Dream has always loved George, and always knew that he acted on it too. However, he’s always loved Dream too much to leave him for it. He reflects on their relationship, and decides he’s fine with it as long as Dream is still his only source of stability.So what happens when George decides to act on their relationship at his wedding?(Title based off of Beyoncé’s “Pray You Catch Me”)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Floris | Fundy, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Pray You Catch Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, welcome to my first fic! I’ve never written one before, but was very inspired by everything that took place in Dream and Fundy’s relationship, as stupidly as it was depicted in literally every single aspect. I hope everybody who reads it enjoys, and that it isn’t too inconsistent, I wrote in some parts right when I was getting to the end and refused to read it back so?? I guess we’ll see how it turned out!

Fundy twisted a blade of grass in between his slender fingers. He always came to this field to think, and maybe he was ruining his suit, but he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. His mind was being flooded with thoughts, and if he didn’t leave the backroom of the chapel, he was sure he’d drown in them. Maybe if he didn’t see George, the other man, his partner’s other half, sitting pretty in the front pews, it wouldn’t matter as much. But there he was, the same soft expression on his face as always, like he was waiting for Dream to whisk him away instead of supporting his long-time acquaintance.

The man wore jealousy in a concealed fashion, almost pretty in a way. Or at least, he hoped Dream thought it was pretty if he had noticed. It was hard bringing his attention to every small detail to light. It was pathetic how much he cared about what the man, his _ fiancé _ , thought of him. It was an especially ugly thought when he had known about his infidelity for around a year now. But he still cared, how could he not?

He mulled over the past with a sour expression on his face, unsure of why he had let this affair go on for so long, or why he kept it a secret. It wasn’t so much that others didn’t know either, he heard the whispers, the way pity crept into their gaze whenever he spoke to them. Dream was quite good at keeping secrets, at maintaining the mysterious persona he was so commonly known for, but he was never good at hiding his affection for the former king.

Deep in his heart, he knew the man was not as terrible as people said he was. He wasn’t cruel, no, he was intelligent, funny, and seemed to knock the air out of the fox hybrid’s lungs whenever he spoke. There were so many crevices in the deep cavern of his mind that no L’Manburgian had ever explored, and Fundy selfishly was glad it stayed that way. The blond’s thoughts were his to love and cherish. So how was it fair that he had George as his competition?

George and Dream’s friendship never bothered Fundy before, but at some point, it crossed a line. They were close years before Fundy even began speaking with Dream, the enemy, his lover. He noticed the secret glances between them, private conversations, touches that lingered a bit too long for his liking, and yet, he pursued Dream. But he knew that George knew that mind as he had, if not better. And even worse, it had grown because of him. Between the cracks were shoots of grass, dainty little flowers that George managed to plant himself. Fundy hated him for it.

It wasn’t hard to tell when their friendship had advanced. Fundy could perfectly recall the night he realized, and he couldn’t help but wonder whether or not it was the night it began too. Dream was transparent when it came to George, did he genuinely think he wouldn’t notice? Fundy could ignore the messy hair, the swollen lips, the blush that darkened his then boyfriend’s face, but he could never ignore the tone of voice when the older man’s voice when he said he had been out with George. 

Normally, Fundy wouldn’t have a second thought about it. A tad jealous he wasn’t invited, sure, but this was different. A smile clearly threatened the corners of Dream’s lips when he spoke his name, and the fondness in his voice at the recollection of the recent memory. Dream always spoke of George highly, but that night, he made the painfully average name sound poetic. He couldn’t bring himself to feel the same about Sapnap, who his fiancé had known even longer than George. George was always there, and even in secrecy, he seemed to be his in plain sight. They belonged to each other, and nobody could deny it, not even Fundy. The hybrid’s heart sank.

It only got worse from then on. Dream would leave for days, often hastily, packing his things in such an unorganized way and  _ never _ allowed his own partner to help. They never parted with a kiss on those trips, never a single touch, just a quick “love you!”, and the slam of the door as it shut. Fundy watched him leave every single time, listening to the sound of his horse’s hooves hitting the dirt road that led to their home, waiting until he couldn’t even see a smudge of color. 

He’d always wander around the house after that, picking up and gazing at knick-knacks for far too long. Every memory the two had was here: the various portraits Fundy had commissioned of them, small objects from their adventures, Dream’s doodles scribbled on random scraps of paper. The hybrid was always fond of them, but in those moments, he wanted to crush everything that reminded him of the cruel man. He would set a fire to the house, and let it burn until every memory was ash. It’d blow away eventually, as would the dirt road that took his lover away.

How did Dream treat George? The question always plagued Fundy’s mind, blanketing the incurable love that he had held for the cruel man. He wondered if George was treated as he once was, when Dream and Fundy’s love had only just bloomed. Did George come alive for Dream, hold him like he was the last person in the world? Did the dark-haired man get hushed laughs, stolen kisses, adrenaline from the relationship being so  _ wrong _ ? Or perhaps it was different, Fundy could never compare to the relationship between the two men, maybe for them, it was right.

So was George treated better, even in comparison to the love Fundy and Dream once held for each other? He could imagine it; Dream’s whispers of “I love you” against his skin like a prayer, pressing kisses between the gaps of his fingers, holding him gently. Maybe they’d made promises to run away, to leave Fundy to burn and crumble with the only sense of stability he had. Surely they did, because why else would Dream make him suffer for this long? The thoughts made his stomach churn, every scenario more painful than the last. 

This field was of significance to him, or at least it was up until recently. Him and Dream had come here the afternoon the older had professed his love to him. Fundy still remembered his initial shock, the way his mouth gaped and then curled into a wide grin. The memory of longing kisses in between giggles, dancing fingertips, and rolling around in the long grass was still fresh in his mind. But then he saw Dream here with  _ him _ , racing their horses before eventually settling. He left the scene before anything could happen, but he remembered the way Dream held his face, and how he heard hushed words he couldn’t quite make out. He felt the bile in his throat at the recalled memory. He tore out a few dandelions, staining the white gloves he wore hunter green and a dull yellow. He’d never be enough for Dream.

And the worst part was he would do  _ anything  _ to prove himself. Give up every last piece of himself, kneel before Dream like he was his God. Fundy always convinced himself that he was different, that the power dynamic between the two wasn’t as unbalanced as it was with all of his other friends. Perhaps it was worse in retrospect, but the fox hybrid couldn’t bring himself to care. Those few moments of tenderness, where Dream held him close to the warmth of his body felt more real than anything else, even if it were a lie. He was hopelessly in love with him. 

He looked to the sky, still bright despite the cool weather. Maybe it’d be different, maybe everything would change. Perhaps Dream didn’t love George anymore, after all, he had dethroned him. It was an event that came as a shock to Fundy, remembering how furious Dream had been only mere days before, saying he’d do  _ anything  _ (with an intensity Dream never held for Fundy before, he noted it even if Dream wasn’t paying attention) to protect the timid king. Maybe it was symbolic for Dream, cutting off the king, and cutting off the affair that had lasted for years. 

He held the dandelions close to his chest, all that ran through his mind was  _ Dream, Dream, Dream _ . The violent act of tearing them away from their roots seemed to lose all meaning, the petals were too soft, and Fundy couldn’t bring himself to care anymore about his fiancé’s affair. They were getting married today, in front of all of their friends and families. Clearly it was real, not only to him, but to the both of them. Fundy would die before admitting otherwise. George would be nothing after this, just some forgotten story that lingered in the back of the couples’ minds.

With a sigh, he pushed himself off the floor with a soft grunt. The man brushed any loose dirt and grass off the tailored suit, and shucked off the gloves. He wouldn’t need them anyways, he would wear the ring proudly on his bare hand. He grinned to himself at the thought. They were to be  _ married _ . No more George, no more war, no more pitiful glances. The blond would be his, and only his. It was a beautiful thought, really. It came up pink, purple, yellow. Warm and gentle in his mind. Dream would be  _ his _ husband.

Fundy was lucky to come in just before the wedding was to start, and nodded towards the audience in apology. He adjusted his hat once more, and stared at his father who stood before him. Though weathered and grayed, his smile still held its brightness when it came to his son. Wilbur may have been hardened by the tragedies of war, but he always held a soft spot for Fundy. And despite their arguments, Fundy smiled graciously back at him, letting out a deep breath.

When the bell rang clear, he turned his head sharply towards the doors. Dream came out soon after, and through the thin veil, Fundy could tell a chuckle was playing at his lips. He was clearly laughing with Sapnap before, and he swore his heart stopped when he saw the man turn his attention towards him. He wore a dress, something that initially confused Fundy, but he couldn’t deny that he looked  _ beautiful _ . Despite everything, it made him prouder that Dream was his, even if it was only a title and nothing more. His hands trembled under his gaze, and he felt a pit of emotion gape in his chest. This was love, looking at  _ his  _ Dream.

The rest of the ceremony carried on as expected, up until the vows, at least. Though not much was said, the fox hybrid’s vows were sweet, loving. He heard a few sniffles in the crowd, probably mostly coming from Sapnap. In this moment, all that mattered was Dream. Yet, when it came his turn to speak, things changed. “What can I say Fundy…” he let out, and then he  _ hesitated _ . Surely everybody caught it, how could they not have? Dream even had the decency to partially turn to the crowd, and Fundy swore his eyes met George’s. 

He finally understood George once it happened, everything that he never did before. He could never quite grasp why George would do this, especially after Dream was in a relationship. Why not before? Why didn’t he just reach out and grab for him? Even if Dream would be Fundy’s by law, he was always George’s. His heart, his soul, his touch, it even came down to every laugh that rumbled fondly in his chest. But he knew that George was scared, and in this moment, he was downright  _ pleading _ with his eyes. 

One final memory swept through his mind, just as painful as all the others. It was before he devoted himself to Dream, before his mother died, before Wilbur put his country before his own son, when life was sweet and stable. He had been asked to go gather some fresh berries with Tommy from the spruce forest that bordered the rivaling country. Though the two would not have his encounter until later, he saw Dream. George was steps ahead of him, and the two seemed to be in shambles. 

“I can’t tell you what you want to hear, Dream.” George’s voice was soft, but it was firm. Dream wasn’t having any of it.

“George, just tell me you love me.” The blond was desperate, his voice tinged with flames. He almost croaked the words out, angry yet wanting.

“Stop.”

“George, come on, I love you,” his voice came out gentler than last time, Fundy noted that quickly. “Tell me you love me.” George kept on trying to talk about something else, about why they were there, Fundy assumed. They clearly had something to do, even if they had taken this detour. George kept walking even if Dream was having none of it, but Fundy could tell he was just as hurt as Dream.

“George, please...” His voice was distant now, and he never heard more of it. At the time, when he was a bit snarkier, and perhaps a bit snappier, Fundy found it pathetic. He knew he’d be ashamed if he saw himself today, in the same position as his lover. But this was a different time, and Fundy and Tommy continued walking after their encounter. They never spoke of it, but Fundy kept the memory locked away for when he felt Dream was acting inhumane, reminding himself he first saw him in his most vulnerable state.

He shuddered as he returned to the present, George was always scared. He was scared then, and scared now. Maybe the intensity at which he wanted Dream scared him, he couldn’t think of any other reason. Fundy wouldn’t be the one in front of Dream if there was any other case. A fire burned in his chest, angry and hateful. Dream didn’t want him.

He snapped out of it when Dream continued with his vows, half-assed and lacking most of the truth behind the words. He never even caught the word ‘love’. As great as a liar Dream was, he clearly couldn’t lie about this. Both of the men forced a sort of half-smile at each other, forcing themselves to maintain the passiveness that was shared between them for far too many years. Fundy wished he just called the wedding off. He could’ve even swore that George murmured something from the crowd once Dream had finished. He was going to be sick.

When his father asked for any objections, he looked towards Dream this time, who wasn’t staring at him. He didn’t have to look at who it was, he already knew. And this time it was Dream who was pleading, silently, but so terribly obviously. The tension that filled the almost-empty chapel suggested that everybody else knew too. They were waiting for George’s voice to ring off the walls, filling everybody’s ears with some devastatingly romantic and tragic proclamation of love. To some degree, Fundy waited too, thinking of what he would do when it happened. Would he run? Yell? Fight? He didn’t know, he wasn’t sure if he could process it. How could anybody?

To his pleasant surprise, George said nothing. He caught the bitterness that crossed Dream’s face when Wilbur’s voice filled the silence instead. For once, the tall man had been defeated. Fundy felt he was sick for feeling triumphant in his lover’s time of despair, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. In only a few moments, Dream would be his. 

He slid on Dream’s ring with trembling fingers, a stupid grin still plastered on his face. He knew they were Dream’s handcuffs, but how could he not be happy? Surely Dream wouldn’t go back to George after this, he missed his chance. And Dream would remain just that to George: A missed opportunity, the distance and memories between them a ghost of what could’ve been, Fundy and Dream’s union the sword that slaughtered their relationship. He was almost giddy.

The feeling was crushed only minutes after, as George clamored onto the stage with a triumphant yell: “I object!” The man couldn’t bring himself to let anything out except a wobbly “ _ what? _ ”. Wilbur seemed offended on Fundy’s behalf, or perhaps just for himself, he really couldn’t tell. Even Dream seemed shocked, but Fundy was far too distraught to feel giddy about the fact that maybe this hadn’t been planned all along. 

Next thing he knew, George was grabbing at Dream’s wrist, still desperate. “Get away from him!” It wasn’t a demand, but more of a plea. He felt his heart shatter when Dream ran with him. Sure, he did seem a bit unwilling, but he never turned back. There had to be some part of him that wanted this. Just him and George, no Fundy, nobody at all. This had to be a nightmare.

Fundy felt himself ready to collapse, but followed the two along with the rest of the crowd. The two didn’t even have the decency to go far, and they had been found still deep in a kiss right behind a pillar. Fundy noticed the way Dream’s hand ghosted over George’s hip, so clearly wanting to touch the place most familiar to him. He saw George’s hand loosely clutching Dream’s hair, clearly not wanting to hurt him. There was passion there, and it was disgustingly unmistakable.

Dream shoved George off of him when everybody else had arrived, flushed and breathing heavily. George stumbled, but Fundy could swear he saw a smile tugging at the corners of his swollen lips. If he had his weapons, he swore he’d wipe that grin clean off. Dream was  _ his _ ,

not George’s, not anybody else’s. “That’s what I had to do,” George breathed out, eyes boring into Dream’s shocked face. 

“What, kiss me?” Dream challenged, eyebrows knit together in clear frustration. The blond was always hard to read, and right now was no exception. Fundy couldn’t tell if he was angry, relieved, or anything else. All he could tell was that he was upset in some way, maybe with George, maybe with himself, maybe with everything he had been trapped in. 

“You’re making a mockery to the wedding!” Dream yelled again when George hadn’t replied. What did he even want him to say? Did he want the Brit to tell him everything he must’ve told him thousands of times before? A proclamation of love and a confession of Dream’s own infidelity? Why did he want to hear George’s voice so badly? He knew Dream wanted to sound angry, but his eyes betrayed him. As Sapnap attempted to pull a scowling and kicking George away, Dream held a certain longing in his eyes. He wanted George to stay.

“Did you pull away when he kissed you?” Tommy’s question to Dream distracted Fundy for a brief second, before proceeding to split his heart in two directly after. Fundy couldn’t believe Dream’s silence, how he looked submissively to the floor. George didn’t make it any better, finally ripping himself away from Sapnap’s tight grip on his arm and pushing through the crowd, right back to Dream’s side. It felt like a punch in the gut to see how perfect they looked together.

“He didn’t!” George replied for him, almost confident in his answer. He held no remorse, he wanted this. He wanted Dream,  _ Fundy’s _ Dream. Dream was still sheepish next to him, eyeing every unextraordinary plank that made up the floor. His silence spoke volumes, surely if Dream cared, he’d deny it, right? Fundy decided that if Dream was his God, this was his way of punishing him, sending him to his place in Hell. He could already feel the heat.

Fundy found the courage to hush the angry audience, begging for a moment of peace. Maybe he’d find the clarity he had so desperately wanted for years. Why he wasn’t enough, why it had to be George of all people. “Dream, what, y-you,” Fundy’s voice was trembling, and he lost any hopes of getting through his question successfully. This was humiliating. “ _ Why _ ?” His last words were croaked out, a desperate final attempt for some sort of sympathy from his partner. Clearly he couldn’t even be granted that.

Dream stared at him for what felt like an eternity, lips unwilling to even attempt to form an apology. Fundy couldn’t help but feel bad at the sight, even wilting when his lover was betraying him the most. He would always be soft for him. So when Dream only rushed through the crowd and out of the chapel, all Fundy did was stand where he was pathetically. This was most definitely his Hell, George following the blond his first round of eternal torture.

The man wasn’t sure how long he stood there, mourning for somebody who was still alive, but he left eventually. Heavy feet brought him outside of the chapel, away from his friends’ concerned whispers, and to the shared home for him and Dream. The  _ once _ shared home. He stared at the wooden door ahead of him pitifully for a few moments, and pushed it open, cringing at the drawn out creak. Dream always promised to oil the hinges eventually, one lie atop all of the others that seemed to frequently spill from his lips.

Fundy wasn’t surprised to see some of Dream’s things gone from their bedroom, and almost felt offended at how messily he had packed. He left a few things behind, unintentionally, Fundy was sure: Two pairs of socks, and even a lone one that hung off one of the drawers, a sweater that Wilbur had knitted him, a few pairs of pants. His freshly received wedding band sat on their nightstand, shining obnoxiously against the murky brown their room was covered in. 

The fox hybrid folded all of Dream’s clothes neatly, almost as if he had never left. He was used to this anyways, discarding anything dirty in a wicker laundry basket, folding the rest, packing it tightly with the rest of their clothes. He smoothed out every wrinkle, if everything else was a mess, at least this could be clean. He held the clothes to his chest a bit longer than he normally would’ve, clinging to his final gift from Dream. 

He left the room soon after, it felt almost suffocating being so close to Dream’s things. The man picked up a bottle of wine he’d been saving for after they got married, popping the cork off and taking a swig, refusing to be bothered with a glass. The wine was supposed to be sweet, but it tasted bitter on his tongue. Everything was bitter without Dream. He stared at himself in the hallway mirror, his lips already stained red with wine, just as Dream’s had been as he pulled away from George’s mouth.

If he hadn’t already given up, perhaps he’d be seething right now. He only felt waves of disappointment wash over him, reminding him of everything he’d lost. Deep in his mind, he knew Dream was running off to be with George, and he knew he’d have to see him again for territory disputes and such. But Dream was with George right now, in the repaired vacation home George had worked so hard on. He knew Dream’s heart was there, safe with George behind the mushroom walls, occupying the space in the almost vacant house, pressing soft kisses to George’s fingers in the privacy of  _ their _ home. But Fundy’s home was here, in the ugly browns of his home, in the crater his father had made in the city he once knew like the back of his hand, in the field him and Dream had once loved.

And perhaps he was in Hell, but Fundy swore that Dream could’ve been kinder. And he took another drink. Maybe it’d all blow over by tomorrow, it usually did with Dream. Perhaps he’d even come back home, sweep Fundy up in his arms, tell him how deeply he loved him and not George. He revelled in his manufactured comfort. Sometimes, daydreaming was better than nothing at all.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hi again, hope you enjoyed :0  
> Sorry for the strange ending, I always suck at finishing things off, but I might post more, the SMP has definitely been interesting! Thank you for reading :]


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